


Do I Make the Wagner Joke Now, Or Later?

by thalialunacy



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-17
Updated: 2011-02-17
Packaged: 2017-10-26 16:28:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thalialunacy/pseuds/thalialunacy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Karl has a secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do I Make the Wagner Joke Now, Or Later?

**Author's Note:**

> **Summary** : Karl has a secret. Okay, maybe a couple of secrets.  
>  **Warnings** : Some harm to Chris. Some loving blasphemy towards Christianity. Some kinkyness near the end.  
>  **Disclaimer** : I do not know these people, nor do I claim to. I'm just here to make you smile. Obviously fictional content is fictional. And the rest of it is, too. Except the part about drinking in Canada with Simon. [Simon tweeted about it.](http://pics.livejournal.com/thalialunacy/pic/003fdxep)

Chris didn't notice during the first film. Probably because he was in the rabbit hole, trying to find redemption in a ridiculous character and trying to come up with new ways to murder his sister for talking him into taking this role. All he learns about Karl is work ethic, eyebrows, chemistry, and chess. It's not until after the movie, through eighteen thousand Customs stations and fifteen thousand hotel rooms, that that third part, that _chemistry_ bit, rears its ugly head.

Zach is awesome. Chris loves Zach. They have their Thing, and it's awesome and bromanciful and, well, awesome.

But Karl… Karl fucking makes his heart go _pitter pat_. It's gross, he knows; the guy is married and gracious and pretty much nothing like Chris-- but perhaps that's part of the appeal. That and the fact that during the tour they actually don't see all that much of each other; he's glued to Zach's side for the majority of it, the Spork thing becoming the Pinto thing and there's no way around that.

But Chris yearns, quietly.

Or not so quietly. "Oh my god, you fucking Neanderthal," comes Zach's annoyed voice through the bathroom door. "How many times do I have to ask you to not masturbate so loudly?"

"Sorry, Judy," he calls back, biting his lip and staring down at where his hand is indeed wrapped around his cock.

"Ugh, not Judy."

"Okay. Barbra."

"Thank you." A couple minutes later, after Chris has rubbed one out successfully and is rinsing off, Zach continues. "And don't think I don't know you're thinking about Karl."

Chris promptly falls on his ass.

So, yeah, Zach knows. Zach knows and Chris knows and that's a permanent party of two in that club, Chris hopes. The tour ends, movies pass, time zones are jumped, they see each other maybe once every couple months, randomly, like the time he had a beer with Simon in fucking Canada of all places.

Then the second movie starts production. And Chris finds himself searching for that rabbit hole for longer than usual, and when he finally falls down it, he finds he has company. Both literally -- Karl seems to like Chris's apartment a whole lot more than his extended stay hotel suite -- and metaphorically: His thoughts about Kirk make this crazy Venn diagram of KirkSpock and KirkMcCoy and the KirkSpock thing is easy. Easi _er_ for him to figure out, at least. After all, there's only about a gazillion years of backstory and character exploration already done, and he and Zach have talked it through and the heavy lifting, character-arc wise, was in the first film.

But McCoy.

Chris has no idea what he's doing. But Karl's doing it, too, and it's subtle enough that JJ doesn't complain--or maybe it's secretly what JJ wanted all along, and he's doing cartwheels when he goes home at night, who knows. Zach raises an eyebrow at him, after about the fifth time, but Chris just shrugs.

He's fucking James T Kirk. Let 'em riot.

\---

The first hint--okay, well, the first hint he _catches_ \--comes one evening, one perfectly normal evening. If by 'normal' you mean 'this fucked up trip Chris's life has become,' where evenings are filled with Karl's accent and Karl's favorite beer and occasionally the ridiculousness of Karl's philosophies when he gets a little stoned. He's just so _epic_ \-- geek cred coming out of his ass as he talks history, war, gods, sagas.

Chris is washing his hands after taking out his contacts when he hears Karl on the phone, the talking-to-Natalie tones comfortable in his voice.

"Yeah, yeah," he hears before he rounds the corner. "I'll tell him soon."

"Tell me what, soon?" Chris asks, rubbing his eye.

Karl turns to him and blinks, clearly caught. The air between them tenses, and suddenly it's a moment full of Things. Chris wants to curse at his fucking emo libido, but he just grits his teeth and rides it out.

Finally, Karl clears his throat. "Erm… Not you. John. I was going to tell John soon about stopping off at home while on tour."

Karl's maybe not that great of an actor, but he's a _great_ liar and Chris can't tell what the hell is going on in his brain half the time. Ever. So he lets it go. "All right. Beer?"

And Karl nods, so Chris heads for the fridge.

\---

The second hint is the fans on the second tour. They're awesome, the Star Trek fans, if sometimes a bit… overwhelming, but it's innocent fun and Chris doesn't begrudge.

Karl, however, fucking _loves_ them. The guy goes to comicons for _fun_. Doesn't dress up, and thinks that means he's totally normal, which makes Chris laugh and shake his head. But when they're paired up more on the second tour -- split evenly, really; the Powers That Be were really feeling the _ensemble_ part of 'ensemble cast' this time around -- Chris finds himself the second wheel on the Karl Fanwagon, signing things until he can't see the pen in his own hand. Karl totally and certainly has the controls, though, and through many countries and many varying groups, he's always funny, charming, polite… and speaking a language Chris doesn't understand.

Chris didn't realize so many people spoke German. So many, in fact, that after a few stops, he gets suspicious. At first, he thinks it's just the jetlag, and okay Karl's parents are German but then even in fucking Tokyo, there it is, rolling out of Karl's mouth like it's the most natural thing. So the next few times, Chris really listens, tries to find at least a couple words he can memorize and look up later.

When he finally does, that night in the hotel room where he's trying to ignore Karl in boxers and Karl in 800-count sheets and Karl in _glasses_ , he swears a loud mean streak at his Blackberry.

Karl's head comes around the bathroom door, toothbrush in hand and white flecks around his mouth. "You all right?" he asks, looking from Chris to the Blackberry and back to Chris.

"Saxon?"

The toothbrush freezes.

"You and thousands of fans across the fucking globe have been conversing in _Old Saxon_?"

Slowly, the brushing resumes as Karl eyes him. "Yeah," he says around it finally. "What's it to you?"

When Chris's gape continues to be his only answer, he shrugs.

"The show. It was a thing. It was a thing on _Xena_." Chris has never seen an ep, except perhaps once when really drunk and maudlin, so he can't argue.

Then Karl turns back to the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Chris flops back onto his bed. "World's full of fucking _geeks_ , man. Fucking geeks."

\---

But the third hint isn't until months later. Chris has almost forgotten about the rest, in fact, ensconced in jobs and girls and his new nephew--and his parents have _retired_ and that's just creepy, because it means _he's_ getting old too, and fuck that--but it's hard not to notice when Karl starts showing up randomly.

It's less like a hint, and more like a falling anvil, he thinks later.

Because it's _really_ random. Tuesday mornings. Sunday nights. Times he knows Chris will be there, somehow, until one time Chris gets home from a long day shooting the same bullshit kisses over and over again and finds Karl on his couch.

"You gave me a key, during Trek 2, remember?" Karl explains a few beers later, when Chris thinks to ask.

Chris thinks on it, then shrugs, remembering something along those lines. He remembers making a key but he'd thought it'd been for Zach but hey, what the fuck does he know? It's been a long few months.

\---

"What the hell, Angie," he's saying into his Bluetooth on the ten one day a while later. The day it all happens. "I don't care what you think, the babysitter has a right to give Shiloh opinions on make-up and not get reported to the-- Holy shit--"

And that's all he gets out as the semi in front of him jack-knifes all over his car.

\---

His life doesn't flash before his eyes or anything. Everything just freezes, slows down, and is only kicked into motion again by the sound of crunching metal. And something is hurting him, something related to the crunching, but neurochemistry is awesome because he can barely feel it, he can only watch as it collapses in on his legs.

Karl had always called it his tin-can car, he thinks, and then he's thinking of Karl, and he knows he must be dying because he _sees_ Karl, sees Karl in a blue t-shirt and jeans, so achingly normal that Chris is sad he's going to die because he's grown quite attached to that image--

\--an image which is currently _prying apart_ the crumpled metal of his car.

Chris's ears lie to him because he can hear the protests of the metal. He shakes his head, trying to clear it. He maybe says Karl's name once or twice, because Chris's pants-on-fire ears manufacture Karl telling him it'll be okay, that he'll be okay, that he'll get him out of there in just two seconds--

Chris passes the fuck out.

\---

But hallucination-Karl is apparently following him, because he's there when Chris wakes up. Then he sees hallucination-Mom and hallucination-Dad and holy shit, he's not in Kansas any more.

\---

He wakes up again and everything _hurts_. He groans, or tries to, and it's a fucking pathetic sound but it brings someone to his bedside, and suddenly there's a warmth in his hand, traveling up his arm, and the hurt's receding.

He cracks one eye open, peering down at where the IV must be administering something wonderful… and instead sees a huge tan hand on his, fingers softly rubbing back and forth along his pale skin. His IV is on the other hand.

Jolted, he lifts his eyes, meeting Karl's gaze. There's apology in them, or at least Chris thinks so for a moment before they're unreadable again, smiling at him.

"Good morning, princess."

"How long have I been out?"

Karl checks his watch. "Nine hours, give or take."

"How did I get here?"

"An ambulance."

"Am I going to live?"

"So they say."

"Where's my family?"

"It's two in the morning."

"Oh." He pauses, staring at their hands. "How long have you been here?"

Karl hesitates. Chris would grind his teeth but he's too doped up. "Karl. Fucking say it."

"It's not important."

"Karl."

"It doesn't matter, Chris."

Chris is shaking his head hard enough he thinks he'll vomit. "No. _No_ , fuck no. I am not taking that bullshit again. You were _in New Zealand_ yesterday--tomorrow--today, what the fuck ever, and yet nine hours ago, give or take, I _watched_ you pull that car apart to get to me. How the _fuck_ \--"

But then he can't talk anymore, because Karl's _kissing_ him.

Well.

That's new.

Karl chuckles against his lips. "No, it's not." And Chris realizes he must've spoken out loud.

"It's not?" Chris asks, eying Karl but Karl's not backed far enough up for it to really work.

Karl shakes his head. Chris feels the air sway minutely against his cheek. "Not that… or… the other thing."

Chris tries to tread carefully. He really does. "The superhero thing?"

Karl laughs outright at that, finally pulling back to look Chris in the eye. "Superhero? Really? Do you see tights on this body?"

Chris makes a great show of looking him up at and down. "Is that on the table?"

He's kind of serious. Not about the tights, though, but Karl gets it. Karl breathes out and settles back down in the chair. "Yeah. If… it is for you."

Chris can't not push, even though he knows he'd've taken any answer Karl'd given him as long as it involved 'fuck yes.' "You've got some shit to tell me, first."

Karl nods. He's still got his hand wrapped around Chris's wrist, and he looks down at it like it contains all the answers.

Chris feels a rush of stupid affection. He turns his palm over, opening his mouth to say something-- and a burst of warmth traveling from his hand to his heart makes it snap shut again on a hiss. "What the _fuck_ \--"

Karl looks up at him then, and as Chris meets his eyes it's like all the carefully placed layers of protective ambiguity fall away. Chris sees something sad in there, and wise, and _ancient_. He sucks in a breath.

And suddenly he knows. "What's your name?"

"Wodanaz." One corner of Karl's mouth lopsides up. "My parents really did call me Karl-Heinz, though. I don't know why."

Chris's brain is trying to slog through the remaining drugs. "Fucking-- Wait, you're fucking _Odin_?"

Karl's nose scrunches. "I guess. Always hated that name."

"I'll try not to use it. Jesus _Christ_ , Karl!"

"Different deity entirely."

Chris's eyes close of their own volition, but he finds himself smiling, unbelievably. Must be the drugs.

"He did make it easier on the rest of us, though. Took the spotlight off, made it so we could live normal lives… sort of."

"Yeah, about that," Chris starts. Then realizes he doesn't even know where to start. "Natalie told you to tell me, didn't she?"

And suddenly it hits him. "Holy shit. Natalie. You-- You kissed me, Karl. What the fuck about Natalie?"

Karl rubs the back of his neck, looking mildly sheepish. "Natalie's my sister."

Chris blanches. "Oh that's just gross. Although very in-genre."

"The kids aren't ours, you mental patient."

Chris raises an eyebrow. The boys look _exactly_ like a Karl-Natalie smooshyface put on a tiny person.

"Well, okay, they're our kids, but not-- not like that. They just--happened. You know, the whole 'springing out of Zeus's head fully formed' thing? Kinda like that. We didn't _do_ anything. We're not--" His nose scrunches again, and Chris wants to bite it. "Totally gross."

He sighs. "She's been trying to get me to tell you for ages."

"But you didn't."

"Yeah. I didn't want to…"

"What?"

Karl shrugs, a little helplessly. "Scare you."

Chris thinks about this. "So you really did open my car like a Leatherman?"

"Always said it was as sturdy as a tin of tuna," Karl says with a quiet laugh.

"Okay," Chris allows, "but…" He tightens his grip on Karl's hand, a lot. Karl looks down at it questioningly. "Do I actually have anything to be scared of?"

Karl shakes his head immediately, his fingers tightening in response. "No. Never."

Chris nods, smiling. "Then the point goes to Nat."

"Oh god please don't tell her you said that."

"What, she can't hear me? You seemed to keep pretty good tabs on me."

Karl almost blushes. "Yeah, er… That was just… me."

Chris waits. Karl sighs. "Fine. We have the ability to tether ourselves to one human at a time. It's considered rude, and frowned-upon, and usually a bad idea, but… I couldn't help it."

Chris feels like the king of everything. "Hey, I'm just glad to know I wasn't going crazy. You were in my head all the fucking _time_ , man. Jesus."

"Really?" Karl looks ridiculously pleased, and Chris thinks it's fucking adorable.

"Ask Zach."

Karl arches an eyebrow at him. "Oh?"

"Yeah. Zach has had to put up with my bullshit Karl obsession for way too long." He feels a twitch, thinking about the specifics, and suddenly realizes-- "Hey, wait. My legs. My car crushed my fucking legs, I don't--" He looks up at Karl. "You?"

Karl's blushing again. "I… Yeah, that's something else I can do."

"Heal?"

"Yeah. I didn't-- I didn't fix them entirely, your car was a pretzel so that would've caused a lot of trouble. You're still going to be here for a couple days."

"A couple days? A couple days stuck here while you're--" His gaze drops to Karl's lips, and Karl isn't thick so he leans in and kisses Chris again. And it's so fucking warm, and good, and not nearly enough. "I can think of about eighty million ways I'd rather be spending my time. Can't you just-- fix the rest of it so we can get home?"

"No."

"Lame." Chris tries again. "How about just--apparating us home for half an hour? We could be back before anybody'd notice."

Karl cocks an eyebrow. "Clearly you do not have a high opinion of me, if that's all you think it'd take."

Then a dimple appears, and he kisses Chris again, and there's hot wet promise in it.

When it's over, Chris lets out a rush of air. He's feeling a little dizzy, from the drugs and the warmth and the _Karl_. "Jesus."

Karl's fingers are soothing his again, and the warmth is spreading through his entire body. "Nah, I can't do that whole water-into-wine thing."

"You can't?" Chris asks, shifting back onto the pillows.

"It's kind of his thing."

"Hmm…" Chris feels his eyes closing. It must be some whammy Karl's putting on him, Karl and the drugs, but it's just so fucking _nice_ that he goes with it. "Have to get you to show me _your_ thing," he mumbles, curling up onto his side as best he can, still clutching Karl's hand.

He hears Karl chuckle. "You'll need your rest, for that." He feels lips on his forehead, and then it's warm there, too. And then he's asleep.

\---

When he wakes up, however, he's no longer in a hospital bed, but his own. He's also no longer stinky like antiseptic and body odor.

But most awesome of all, he's got a Karl Urban-shaped lump wrapped around him. Well, as much as he can be while carefully avoiding Chris's still-bruised-as-all-shit legs, and Chris's heart sits up and fucking begs.

"Karl," he whispers. He's not sure if he's trying to wake the guy up, or trying to ascertain if the guy is not just a figment of his imagination. Maybe both. "Urban." He tries to do it in his best Kiwi accent, curled-up 'ur' and slight emphasis on the 'ban', and Karl stirs.

Hazel eyes blink up at Chris, then a smile immediately lights on the corners of Karl's mouth. "Well done, that." Then his eyes grow concerned. "You all right? Need any pills or water or--"

Chris is pulling him up for a kiss before he can finish. Somehow neither of them have morning breath and Chris thinks being with a god is pretty much the best thing ever. "Got everything I need right here," he mumbles into Karl's lips.

He turns into Karl to have better access, sneaking a hand under the blankets and around Karl's back--but Karl pulls away slightly.

"When I sprung you early, I promised your parents I'd take care of you, not molest you."

Chris grins, kisses him before he can get away again. "What if I want to be molested?"

His hand is now working its way under Karl's shirt, and Karl leans into him, just a little. "We'd have to be careful," he murmurs, and then kisses Chris like he can't help it.

"I'm not going to break, Karl."

But Karl's looking at him and his eyes are wide. "I _watched_ you break, Chris. And I am _not_ interested in doing it again."

Chris can't even handle the amount of affection he feels at that moment, not even close.

So instead he uses his little bit of leverage to get Karl to lean in the rest of the way, and uses his hand to guide Karl's warm palm to the front of his pajama pants. "I trust you can handle _this_ without breaking anything, right?"

Karl groans, both at the joke and the contact, and while he's clearly torn for a few moments, his hand seems to move of its own volition, stroking Chris into half-hardness through the fabric.

Chris bites his lip and pushes into it a little. "Yeah, fuck yeah, see?"

Karl eyes him. First searching his gaze, then traveling to his mouth, then staring at where his hand is working at Chris's cock. Finally, he drags his gaze back up to Chris's. "You sure?"

Chris nods without hesitation. "You're pretty fucking trustworthy."

Karl's eyes darken and he kisses Chris, harder than the previous ones, tongue darting out to lick at Chris's lips. "There are so many things I haven't told you yet, though…" Another kiss, Chris accepting his tongue and touching it with his own.

"So tell me now," Chris says easily. His hands tuck under Karl's shirt and start to work it upwards. Getting his hands on as much tan skin as possible, it's his new imperative.

Karl makes a noise of protest while his shirt goes over his head. "Now's not really…" He's cut off when Chris pinches a nipple teasingly.

"I'm serious, Karl-Heinz. Tell me things," Chris says blithely as he starts on his pajama bottoms, loathe to break Karl's rhythm but panting for--Oh _fuck yes_ , Karl's palm is so _hot_ on him-- "Jesus fuck," he gasps, staring at Karl's hand.

That seems to decide it for Karl, who uses his free hand to help Chris's pants all the way off, then his own, before he straddles Chris, keeping his weight off Chris's legs like it's no big deal. "What sort of things?"

"Well, I already know about the strength thing." He tips his head up when Karl starts to work on his neck. "Which is insanely hot, by the way, and I’m so taking advantage of it when I'm healed."

Karl chuckles against his skin. "All right."

"And now the Old Saxon makes a whole lot more sense." He thinks, although it's becoming more difficult as Karl strokes him and licks at his chest. "Kinda. How do all those people _know_? And why don't they, I dunno, tell the tabloids?"

Karl snorts. "Oh, they have."

Chris looks down to where Karl's blowing soft raspberries on his tummy, an eyebrow raised. "And what, you put the whammy on them?"

Karl stops with the kisses, but his hand doesn't stop, thank fuck. "I don't kill anyone, if that's what you're implying." Chris's hand slides around the back of Karl's neck into the short hairs there, feeling himself get closer to the edge than he wants, so he tugs Karl upwards. "But yes, we do have to watch our backs."

"Mm," Chris says with a kiss, "and what a mighty fine back it is." Chris's nails would be tearing up said back that moment, if he had any. "How did you always get here so quickly? You've explained the timing, but--" He gasps as Karl's free hand rolls his balls. "Fuck."

"You said it earlier," Karl murmurs, and he's sitting up, perched almost directly above where he's still got his hand wrapped around Chris's cock.

"I was joking, fucker."

"Yeah, well," Karl says as he positions himself. "You were right."

Then he's sinking down onto Chris's cock, somehow already wet and opened just enough to have Chris gasping-- "Wait, I want to-- _shit_ \--help."

Karl shakes his head, breathing hard. "Don't need to." He flashes his own small shit-eating grin at Chris. "Sometimes being a god has its advantages."

"Sometimes?" Chris chokes out. "All the fucking time, I'd say-- Fuck fuck _fuck_ Karl."

Karl pauses, tightens his thighs carefully and leans down to plant a quick kiss on Chris's lips. "Tell me if you feel any pain, all right?"

Chris groans. "I'll never feel pain again, I swear to God, Urban, just-- uuunnngggh."

The talking pretty much stops there for a while, grunts and moans and wet slapping sounds filling the air as Karl fucks himself on Chris's cock. Chris has never seen anything hotter in his _life_ , for real, because knowing Karl could fucking _crush him_ , but is instead handling him carefully, _giving_ himself to Chris like it's worth every last effort-- It tears open a little place in Chris's chest, a little hole Chris is pretty sure will never be filled by anything besides Karl.

Chris comes with very little effort. Or dignity.

He gasps for air, grasps at Karl's cock, and between his hand and Karl's and his cock still half hard inside Karl, he has a keening armful of Karl in very little time.

It's a sight to see, and Chris drinks it in hungrily. "Fucking come for me, Karl. Come on."

Karl groans low, and it sounds like Chris's name, and as hot semen starts to spill out of his cock and down Chris's hand, Chris grins like the Cheshire Cat--

Then his eyes widen. Big as fucking saucers, he's sure.

Because Karl motherfucking Urban is _glowing_. It's like he's got a fucking halo pulsing all around his body as his cock pulses in Chris's hand, and Chris is, for once, utterly speechless.

As Karl finishes and collapses (very carefully still not putting any weight on Chris's legs, the perfect fucker), the glow dims, but it doesn't go away.

The silence stretches. Chris thinks he might be in shock. And then he thinks it's kind of funny that _that's_ the thing that tips him over into feeling like a crazy person in an alternate dimension. Fucking _glowing_.

"I probably should've warned you about the light thing, eh?" Karl finally mumbles against Chris's chest.

"Uh--" Chris clears his throat. "Well. It was certainly a surprise." He tips his head down to look at Karl. "Got any more?"

Karl finally stirs. "Loads." He blinks at Chris, rubs his eyes, and they're both suddenly cleaned up and back under the covers.

Still naked, though. Which is totally fine with Chris.

He burrows into Karl's side as best he can.

"Well, let's start with the basics. What are you the god _of_? Besides, war or whatever."

Karl's hand rubs his back lightly, slowly. So warm. "Poetic fury."

"Poetic fury? What the hell does that even mean?"

"You were the English student. You tell me."

But he's got a note in his voice, like it's a secret he likes, and it dawns on Chris. "You-- That's part of this? You have a hard-on for my hard-on for words?"

Karl nods.

"That's fucking rad."

"You did not just say 'rad'."

"Oh I think I did." He yawns. "I'm takin it back."

He settles in to Karl telling stories. Stories about his kids, the many and varied babysitting gods that come round. Stories that explain some of his quirks, like the one time Cupid (the real one, thanks) cursed him so that rose petals became his greatest aphrodisiac…

Chris falls asleep next to his god among men, his geek in the actual body of a god, with a huge fucking smile on his face.

 

**Epilogue, a few weeks later**

"I'm home," Karl calls through the front hallway, and the sound of him putting his wallet and keys on the hall table echoes through the still house.

Chris smirks and gets into position.

"Chris, where are you? I thought we were going to dinn--"

Karl stops as he gets to the door of the bedroom. His eyes narrow as they take in the sight of Chris on the bed… laid out all over a host of rich red rosepetals.

"Cheeky."

The dimples are flashing, though. Chris knows he's grinning like a fucking idiot. "Yeah?"

"Think you should be tempting a god?"

Chris rucks his shirt off and tosses it to the floor. "Big scary god who happens to whimper like a puppy when I put my tongue into his--"

There's a crack, and in a blink--literally--Chris finds himself naked and trussed up to the bed by the wrists. He looks up at the shackles for a moment, tugs once or twice, then looks back at Karl. His breathing might be coming up shorter. Maybe. "Hot."

"Yeah, you are," Karl says casually, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "And I could do whatever I wanted to you, couldn't I?"

Chris swallows. Christ but he gets off on this, on knowing how easy it would be for Karl to destroy him. Wouldn't even cause the guy to break into a sweat.

But he won't. Chris has taken the freefall into trusting like he never thought he would. And the results have been _awesome_.

"Yeah, you could," he challenges. "So do it." He even lifts his knees like a porn star, a smirk on his lips. "Come here and make me scream your name, glowworm." He grins. "All of them."

And Karl does.

 

__  
**FIN**   


**Author's Note:**

>  **Notes/Inspirations/Sources/Etc** : Prompt stolen from a J2 anon meme, and written for that pairing delightfully [here](http://saone77.livejournal.com/155038.html)\--and I totally stole the best line in here from that story. I just couldn't resist, okay. _Kaaaaahhhhhl_. One line was stolen from _High Fidelity_. There's a Harry Potter reference, hurr. There's a really obscure injoke from the Simpsons S3 commentary, and a line from _Clerks 2_. Oh, and thanks, Wikipedia.


End file.
